Dinner Out
by Wolf Of Legends
Summary: House decided it’s time to let the cat out of the bag and tell Wilson what’s been on his mind… or heart rather. Told in the 2nt Person. Slash


Title: Dinner Out

**Title: **Dinner Out  
**Author:** WolfOfLegends  
**Paring:**House/Wilson  
**Rating: **G  
**Words count:** 1,772  
**Beta:**None.  
**Summary:** House decided it's time to let the cat out of the bag and tell Wilson what's been on his mind… or heart rather. Told in the 2nt Person.  
**Spoilers:** None  
**Disclaimer:** Character's not mine, all David Shore's and FOX and whoever else owns them. I AIN'T GETTING' NO CASH FO' DIS! ALL FO' FUN!

* * *

It's a Friday when you decide love is annoying and it's time to do something about it. You're sitting at your desk and Wilson is going on about something or another that you haven't been paying attention to other than the sounds of his voice as you try to think up a plan. It's taken a while but you've managed to pull up enough courage to finally do something about this mess. But that doesn't mean you're not nervous. You hide it well.

He's halfway through a question when you interrupt him by asking him if he's got anything planned for the night and you can feel the nervousness deep within you start to blossom a bit more. He looks a little flustered by your interruption but shrugs it off before he shakes his head and asks if you want him to head on over to your place instead of home after work.

Hotel, you correct him. He only gives a half-hearted glare knowing you're right and offers to pick up some Chinese on his way over.

You only ask if he feels like eating out somewhere instead of the apartment. He tells you he wouldn't mind with a thoughtful expression almost as if he's trying to read you... he knows you're up to something. You quickly shrug it off as the fact that you're asking him to eat out rather than in. That's a rare occurrence with you.

You nod and toss in for him to dress nice and that you're picking him up at eight. And before he can get a word out of his open confused mouth you leave the room. You don't feel like answering why just yet.

After a moment of you being gone, and he recovers from the slight shock of all what just happened. He sighs and nods even though no one else is in the room. "Alright."

--

Getting ready for an event you need to look nice for is just as frustrating as it's always been and how you always seem to remember it. Once again you're close to ditching your tie as it's jumbled in some annoying way making it look half-assed and tied in the dark. You pull it off and pull your arm back to throw it away but stop yourself with a sigh.

You know he'd love to see you in a tie. He always seems to enjoy it on those rare occasions when you do. So slipping it around your neck once again and a few more tries you finally get it to look nice and correct. You find yourself hoping that that wasn't a bad omen in anyway. You almost think you might have just jinxed yourself, but you hurryingly push the thought from your mind as you try and get the last minute things done and ready.

What's getting you is that you really can't believe you're actually doing this. You hate having to admit it, even to yourself, that you've fallen in love with that damn Oncologist. You've had years to try and figure out why exactly you had. Maybe it's his eyes and his overall good looks, maybe it's the way he worries about you in a sense that no one else does anymore, maybe it's his genuine intellect (though he does do stupid things sometimes... okay, he's smart but has bad judgment), maybe it's because he's willing to bend so far backward for you that he'll come within inches of breaking his spine to keep you safe, maybe it's because after all the shit you've done to him he still stays (or maybe that's cause he's stupid, you think half heartedly), or maybe it's all of the above. Which ever one it is you don't know for sure, no matter how much you think about it you can never get close to the answer… only that you do love him. And now you were finally going to do something about it. You can only hope for the best.

Ten minutes to eight. You'd better get going.

--

You feel slightly odd pulling up to the hotel. You wish he'd just find himself an apartment 'stead of this place. It's not like he can't afford it. You half think it's some subconscious plan he came up with so it wouldn't be so easy to have the IV Mrs. Wilson to stay and start another crap relationship.

If you have any say in it there will be no more Mrs. Wilsons. You wish he'd just give all that up and move back in with you. Sure you were a bit of a pain to live with but he moved out just as he started to retaliate. It's kind of strange when you think about it, but you were proud of him when you collapsed from that broken cane of yours in that hall and he simply looked down at you with a straight face and supplied that someone must have filed halfway through your cane while you slept.

It must have been hard holding that straight face. You're almost certain you would have busted out laughing half way through.

You make your way into the hotel lobby with your fancy black and silver cane glistening brilliantly against all the lobby's lights. Once there, you ask the fellow behind the desk which room Dr. James Wilson is in and you earn a suspicious look and questions.

Your answer? Why, you're his gentleman caller, of course. You hide your smile behind your straight face and he only lets out an "Oh." Wilson would beat you if he knew what you just did. You notice the clerk keep his head down as he tries to avoid eye contact as he keeps his head in the tenets log and gives you the room and floor without looking up. You try your best to continue to hide your snickering.

The elevator ride is fine as riding in a metal box can be and before you really know it you're on the floor out the elevator and are standing in front of the room Wilson is alleged to be staying in. With a deep breath you knock on the door with your cane.

Your heart is in your throat by the time he opens the door. He's beautiful. He's dressed nice just as you asked, or rather, ordered. And you don't know what cologne he's wearing but he smells absolutely wonderful. You wonder if he wears it on all his dates.

Once outside you hear him give a grateful sigh to see your car. Did he really think you'd take your bike for this? You make a small note to bring the bike next time just to see his reaction. When in your car he inquires on where the two of you are headed, but you don't tell him directly, only telling him he'll find out when you both get there. He doesn't ask again.

The ride doesn't take long, only a few minutes and the traffic seems generous enough not to hold you up too long. Seems people know how to drive today. Once there you find yourself stuck on what to do. Normally you'd be here with a woman. You'd know you should be gentlemanly and open the door for her, pull out her chair, and everything else... but He's not a woman, in fact a man. So once you get to the door, you hold it open for him. He regards you with a kind smile and slips in with you close behind. When you're seated you don't pull out his chair and by the way he's holding himself and the still pleased expression on his face he doesn't seem to mind.

The conversation is kept light, mostly about this and that and is kept bearable because it's about things you're genuinely interested in hearing about, not about the weather and what not. And it does help a little that it's him talking and you. Regardless to how much you ever try to deny it, from his constant lecturing, you like the sounds of his voice. You're always listening to him, that doesn't mean that you understand what he's said. But that's not the case now; no lecturing means no need to ignore.

When the waiter comes around you each order for yourselves and you add in an order for a bottle of fine wine. There's more light conversation until your food arrives. About halfway through your meal you look up from your plate and passed the thin vase that held a single rose, to him. It's like he could feel your eyes on him and he looks up from his own plate and to you.

You take a deep breath and try to swallow the lump in your throat only to find it still there. You say you need to tell him something. He can hear the importance of the statement in your voice and he puts his fork down and keeps his eyes on you; giving you his full and undivided attention.

It's now or never.

You tell him what's been in your heart for the past few years... only not in so many words. You pull your gaze from him and onto a blank area on the white tablecloth, not looking too unlike a kicked puppy and ashamed of what you had just told him.

But when you don't hear harsh words being thrown at you, you look back to him to find, not a look of disgust, but a smile. He tells you the same. His cheeks, if you look hard enough, you can see the soft hint of crimson in them. He wonders what took you so long.

You smile back and let out a breath. You're still nervous about the whole situation, but there's no doubting that getting it all out and he admitting the same has put you a little at ease. But everything about it all does make you edgy.

You ask him if this means he'll be moving back in. He nods and assures you that he is. You feel pleased to hear the words now, but you're almost sure you won't be thinking the same when that hair-dryer of his wakes you up for work instead of your alarm clock the next day.

He asks you if that's all right, him moving back in and all. It's then you start to remember all the things he did while he was there that annoyed you so much you thought about killing him once or twice.

But then you remember his cooking. And you see his pretty face.

"Yeah. That's fine."

END


End file.
